


Lascivious

by Nikkitosa



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Newt Scamander/ OFC - Freeform, Newt Scamander/ Original Female Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikkitosa/pseuds/Nikkitosa
Summary: Lascivious. When he first met her, he wasn’t aware how sexually active her kin was, thus was left thunderstruck and beep red when one night, after a considerable amount of drinking, she simply straddled his lap without any sign of timidity. 
Newt didn't mind. Not one bit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short smut. I don't know what happen. I blame Newt's cuteness for this!

~ • ~  
You’re my mortal flaw,  
and I’m your fatal sin.  
~•~

Newt Scamander always knew that he was rather bashful, not exactly out-going, ignorant for some things, clumsy half the time and rather absent-minded. Those were traits he had accepted some time ago. It has become common for people, no matter wizards or muggles, to question his peculiarity. That’s just the way he was. Or, rather had been. After she stormed into his life like a walking, raging hurricane, nothing has ever been exactly the same.  
Affectionate. It’s evident in the tender way in which she handles all the magical creatures he has rescued.  
Exquisite. Her long hair, dyed burgundy red, cascades down her back and curls at the ends, successfully catching the light and highlighting certain parts in almost fiery hues. Exceptional eyes, which could be green or rich chocolatey brown, depending on some unknown to him factors.  
Curvaceous. With a body like hers, it’s a miracle Newt is still able to work on his book. Yet, he is willing to admit so much to himself, he doesn’t mind the distraction.  
Bold. There’s not an ounce of modesty or shyness in the way she speaks her mind. Furthermore, whatever she wants, she makes sure she gets it. Another thing Newt doesn’t really mind.  
Lascivious. When he first met her, he wasn’t aware how sexually active her kin was, thus was left thunderstruck and beep red when one night, after a considerable amount of drinking, she simply straddled his lap without any sign of timidity.  
Somehow things developed after that cornerstone in their relationship. She explained that she had needs which, while on most occasions she had her rains over, were still an ever-present nudge in the back of her head that eventually would kick forward. She vehemently apologised for not asking his permission before straddling him, but nothing else– no regrets concerning what followed.  
“I always get what I want, Newt.” Her reply was cocky, but honest.  
Somehow he didn’t actually mind having her around, even after she had found what she needed in his books. Dreading her departure, he wracked his brain for any way in which he could keep her by his side. In the end, the truth always lay heavy on his heart – if her desire was to leave, there wasn’t a force in the world that could stop her.  
She stayed. Behind the pretext of being bored and with nothing better to do, she asked if she could assist him in taking care of the creatures. Even in the deepest and darkest corners of his soul, Newt Scamander couldn’t find a reason to say no and send her away.  
It doesn’t need saying that her activities involved a lot more that simply looking after the animals he kept in his care. She took care of him as well. In all ways imaginable. Again, he had no complains.  
***  
It’s a full moon tonight, and Newt finds himself more restless that usual. He knows what’s going to happen when the sun sets and despite understanding it, he doesn’t like it.  
“It’s for your own good,” she assured him after the first time it happened, “I won’t be able to control myself around you if I stay.”  
He blushed then, feeling exposed and flattered at the same time. Apparently, her urges would get the best of her when the moon showed its full milky face on the welkin, and Newt had to stop himself from blurring out that he wouldn’t mind her taking him. Because that was what was going to happen. Not him taking her, but her dominating him. Which wasn’t disagreeable at all, but still it sounded inappropriate to tell her so. So he didn’t.  
There are never questions as to where she goes on those nights, what she does, and with whom she does it, as such conjectures get Newt’s usually soft-spoken nature to morph into something he can hardly recognise or control. After all, she is a free spirit, and he has no right over her.  
With a sigh, the wizard admits that, despite trying his best not to, somewhere along the way he somehow got rather attached to his red-haired companion. Penelope Silvertail. The sound of her name in his head makes his heart suddenly pump a little faster and a tell-tale heat blossoms across his chest, travels up his neck and settles across his cheeks. He’s blushing, and he curses himself for his so apparent modesty.

***

The weather in London is as dreary today as it has been for the past week, and while the locals barely notice it, Penelope Silvertail can hardly keep her discontent hidden. It’s getting a tad too drenching for her taste. Skipping past a few brown puddles, she climbs the steps, unlocks the door and enters the house. At least inside it’s warm and cosy and dry. Leaving her umbrella in the corner, she kicks off her muddy shoes and goes to the kitchen. Finding it vacant, apart from the teapot that’s already pouring her a warm cup of tea, with a sigh she sets her bag on the table. A small smile stretches her lips as the steam spirals out of the cup leisurely and leaves a peppermint tint in the air. Leave it to Newt to spoil her.  
Being a breathing juxtaposition of nature’s laws, Penelope still finds it hard to accept such forms of kindness when unasked for. All her life she had to fight for what she had, and the world was a cruel place for the likes of her. She doesn’t belong anywhere; she’s not human, nor is she a wizard. For all she knows, she’s a splice between a succubus and someone else, who obviously wasn’t. Shunned for being too much to handle. Until she met him. Newt knew how to handle delicate magical creatures with issues, and somehow behind all his shyness, he was perfectly capable of handling her as well. Which was good. She likes challenges.

***  
“You leaving?”  
His voice is shy, yet the disappointment that tints it doesn’t stay unnoticed and it makes him wince.  
Stealing a glimpse over her shoulder as she finishes packing a small bag, Penelope simply nods at him, as usual not elaborating neither where she’s going, nor with whom.  
The wizard takes the liberty to observe her for a few more seconds before he turns on his heel and leaves, already feeling agitated and irksome. He has been rather possessive of her over the last couple of weeks. They were even closer now, not only intimately but also mentally, and he finds himself unable to let her go.  
‘She knows best what’s good for her.’ His thoughts, despite being accurate, are not the least bit reassuring. Truth be told, he doubts she does it for her own safety. Deep down he realises it’s him and his bashful nature she preserves by leaving whenever her sexual drives get unruly.  
Not wanting to hear her leave, Newt goes to check on his creatures. Usually that takes hours, but his mind is distracted, his body is restless, and there’s a different tune humming in his blood. Nothing can quench this unrest within him. At least, nothing in the suitcase. Still, he grits his teeth and tries harder to stir his uncooperative mind in a different direction. Something less harmful for his frail self-control. After all, it won’t be hard to make a location spell and find the whereabouts of his little succubus. The thing he ends up doing is a mental list of how much she stands out, and how much that arouses him in all the senses of the word.

***

The water is almost uncomfortably hot, its spray mercilessly whipping across the now tender skin. It’s quite late already, way after midnight, and the round moon’s body is shedding its illuminance across London.  
The shower was supposed to be a cold one, as eventually Newt’s thoughts stirred into a very dangerous direction and left him with a certain predicament that just wouldn’t go away. The icy water was meant to cool him down, clear his head, leave him with a sense of ease. It’s beyond him why he opted for the boiling hot alternative instead. Maybe it was because of the physical pain it elicited? ‘Fight fire with fire’, Penelope always nags him.  
A thud reaches his ears through the water curtain, snapping him out of his stupor. Quickly slipping out of the cabin and tying his bathrobe, he grabs his wand and exits the room, the spell for silence muffling his steps.  
The ground floor is bathed in darkness, and silence rules once again. Only the occasional howl of the wind disturbs the illusive tranquillity. The living room is visible from his place on the stairs, while the kitchen is halfway swallowed in shadows. A small thud, followed by a hiss, breaks the silence and without a second thought Newt sneaks into the kitchen.  
“Stupefy!”  
Having glimpsed movement with the corner of his eye, the spell leaves his lips and a shriek follows before the inevitable collision with the ground. In the back of his head, through the cloud of adrenalin, a small alarmed voice recognises that shriek.  
“Lumos Maxima!”  
The ball of light bounces above the table, shedding its ghostly white light across the room. Quickly walking across the table, Newt almost trips over a pair of long slender legs.  
“Bloody hell!” 

***

It takes almost half an hour for Penelope to come back round after his spell knocked her out cold and left her almost lifeless on the cold tiles. During that time, which for Newt felt like an eternity, he realised he never asked her if her body reacted to magic in an abnormal way. As he watched her lay in his bed, pale like a sheet and barely breathing, he cursed his hastiness and stupidity.  
Now she just moans about a horrendous headache, pain throughout her whole body, dry throat and how much she wants to punch him.  
“Gladly.”  
Being cranky means she’s okay, so without a sound he fulfils all her whims for water, chocolate and warmth. For some unknown reason, she feels abnormally cold, and when he touches her hand by accident, he shivers.  
“Why where you here?”  
Penelope’s eyes are the only thing visible from her self-fashioned cocoon of blankets and pillows. The two now dark brown orbs are centered on him and the gleam he notices at the very back hints that she didn’t get any satisfaction prior the incident.  
“I was checking something.”  
The muffled reply leaves him even more perplexed.  
“And what may that be?”  
Her eyes narrow dangerously at his slightly joking tone, and Newt thanks his lucky star for sitting at the foot of the bed, away from her reach.  
“Nothing.”  
She’s pouting, and he smirks. Moody as Penelope usually is, when the moon’s out, she can switch between a feral dominant female to a small child in the blink of an eye.  
“I’m curious.”  
The sweet smile, the slight tilt of the head, the hazel eyes glimpsing shyly under dark lashes, the damp hair ruffled and falling across his face. She’s beyond smitten, and the fire that had been extinguished by his damned spell suddenly gets rekindled. Instinctively she rubs her thighs together in a futile attempt to make the itching heat between them subside.  
“I was testing myself.”  
Admitting it out-loud makes it sound even more stupid than it did in her head. Halfway across town, she decided that maybe she will be able to control herself around Newt even on nights like this one if she tries harder. So she went back, only to find the house drowned in darkness. He was in his room, she could hear the water running. That awful quirk of his to leave the door open, regardless of her being there or not, was the only immodest thing that projected itself without her intervention. She didn’t want to peak in, but she did nevertheless. What she saw send her stumbling out of the room as fast as possible, while she still could restrain herself from doing something unthinkable. His naked, toned, wet body flashed in front of her every time she blinked and unknowingly she burst into the kitchen and smacked herself in the table, making the thudding sound that got his attention.  
Needless to say, she nearly failed her own test by a heartbeat – if he had turned slightly to the side, she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself from slipping into the bathroom and going after her prey like the sexual predator she was.  
Blushing furiously under the layers of blankets, Penelope looks away from the wizard, feeling her control slipping away with each passing second. He sits there, in front of her, ignorant of what his sole presence does to her system, of how it tests her strength and restrictions. Clad in nothing but his bathrobe, with his tussled hair and innocent look, for a first time she abhors the idea of allowing her instincts to lead her.  
“And what was the conclusion from your test?”  
“That I need to leave immediately.”  
She glares at him, Newt realises, with warning, begging him to get out while he still can. The timid part of him has been ready to bolt ever since her eyes fixed on his, anchoring him in his seat. Yet tonight that voice is small, comes from somewhere far away, and barely has an impact over him.  
“Please, Newt.”  
The restrain in her voice makes something in him twist painfully. He has noticed how the bundle of blanket has been fidgeting; moving, kicking, and just now it dawned on him that she’s at her very limit. One nod is all her salacious self needs to unwrap the fortress of blankets and straddle him.  
When he moves to sit closer to her, Penelope breaths in sharply, involuntarily taking in his scent – mint, earth, musk and something sweet, and curses herself for such stupidity. Her body aches to be touched, teased, pleased and finally satisfied, and apparently it wants all this to be done by the male in front of her. Her mind, on the contrary, fumes and curses him for testing her in such a cruel way. She warned him, dammit! He knows!! Why isn’t he running for the hills?!  
“Please.”  
Her voice is hoarse from the force needed to stop herself from jumping on him and raping him, with or without his consent. All the sexual agitation, the desire, the carnal need are condensed into a single word.  
“I’m not going anywhere.”  
A moment of stillness befalls as the words sink in. He’s shocked that he actually said them. She can barely breathe due to their implication. Hazel eyes clash with brown ones.  
When a moment later her instinct kicks in, Newt only has time to notice the chocolatey brown subsiding and morphing into a bright green that almost glows. Next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back, with Penelope over him, straddling him possessively, her hair falling down around them like a curtain.  
“Use it, Newt, please.”  
Her left hand is pinning his chest down while the right one is closing around his throat in a dominating manner, her nails scratching the skin and making it prickle. Her body acts on its own accord apparently, yet her mind won’t shut down. Referring to the wand that somehow is in his right hand, she begs him to neutralize her and flee. To save himself. The gesture, a last desperate attempt to save him, despite her body’s desires and demands, is touching. In that instant he knows that no matter what she’ll do to him tonight, it will forever change things between them.  
A small movement in her periphery vision gets her attention and her eyes unwillingly leave his, only to glimpse at how the wand slips between his fingers and falls on the floor. He has made his mind, her libidinous nature purrs and Penelope has to agree. She warned him. Hell, she gave him numerous occasions to run. It was his choice to stay. ‘Let’s not make him regret it then,’ a small sinister whisper travels through the back of her head.

***

Her lips leave fire wherever they touch his skin. The trail burns through him like hot steel and leaves him panting, aching. Aching for more. Sensing his need, she climbs up his body and captures his lips in a searing kiss that wipes his mind clean. Sharp nails drag down his chest, marking it with long red stripes. His robe comes undone, exposing his upper body to her hungry eyes. She takes a moment to marvel at him, at the way his chest rises and falls (he is heaving), at how his muscles tense under her touch (her hands are so cold, a perfect contrast to his burning skin), at how fast his heart pumps in his ribcage, threatening to snap it open. Like a predator, she enjoys the fact that her prey is twisted in a knot of anticipation and quivers under her touch. It leaves her dizzy with need.  
Newt finds it hard to stabilize his heartbeat. With Penelope firmly straddling him, brushing against him, teasing him with every move of her hips, he can hardly collect his wits and figure a proper way to breathe. It’s like he has forgotten the need for oxygen. Her green eyes hypnotise him, her lips steal his willpower and her hands have him chained down. Desire makes his blood boil and simmer, lust has him aching and tossing whenever she pulls away. Involuntarily his whole body moves after her, mimics her movements and makes everything possible to sustain the bittersweet friction between their bodies. Suddenly he’s the lascivious one. Impatient. Needy. Hungry. And she’s perfectly aware of that, the minx.  
She takes her time teasing him, showing off her unsurpassed self-control. Nails claw at his chest, biceps, back, tights. Lips kindle flames wherever they stop. Teeth bite his bottom lip, his shoulder, his neck, anywhere. Newt never thought he’ll find pleasure in pain. Obviously it all comes down to the type of pain and who inflicts it.  
Penelope is hot and wet, and is running low on patience. Her restrain is wavering and with the bulge she feels pressing between her legs, it’s even harder to slow herself down. Her shy friend obviously has a secret side to him, a very naughty, horny side which has been get repressed all this time. Bending down over him, she gently nibbles at Newt’s earlobe, her teeth teasing the soft flesh and making the male give a throaty moan, a sound she adores.  
“I want you, Newt.” The low seductive whisper makes his breath hitch and his body to grow rigid. “I want you now.”  
She is everywhere. Hot breath against the side of his face. Breasts pressed firmly against his chest. Hands gripping his shoulders. Pelvis gently swaying over his throbbing manhood. It’s too much to bear. Something in him snaps, something vital, and all his self-control collapses.  
She finds herself flat on her back, with him looming over her, caging her. She rebels. He fights back. Lips lock feverishly. Skin hits skin. Hands grip and claw. They spin again. As a reward for his newfound domineering streak, she rubs her crotch against his and purrs like a cat while her hands get buried in his hair, tugging his head gently back. With his neck exposed before her, the temptation is too much to handle. The arteries throb with the song of his blood, his Adam apple bobs up and down as he swallows, beads of sweat roll down the tender flesh. His jaw is clenched, his hands are gripping her by the thighs and his eyes are halfway hooded with lust. She teases his neck with her tongue before nibbling at it, and then biting it. He hisses and moans simultaneously, and his body jerks upwards. It’s her turn to moan against his neck in delight. She’d dripping wet at this point. Yet she waits for the complete abdication of his restrains and modesty.  
Finally his sole piece of clothing gets discarded to the side, followed by her leggings and thongs. Newt’s head is spinning from the sensation of longing. His groin is painfully sensitive, certain parts of his body tingle from where her teeth or nails played, and now he wants nothing more but to get rid of all this accumulated pressure.  
Penelope stands up next to the bed, her long red hair cascading down her naked body, making her sun-kissed skin stand out. She’s watching him, admiring him, he can tell, and suddenly he feels self-conscious under her heated gaze. It’s a test, he realises a second later, as he notices how her own body appears to be at the verge of snapping. The ball is in his field, and it’s up to him to decide how to play with it.  
In an eye blink he stands in front of her, a few centimetres taller, looming over her smaller frame. One of his hands ends up in her hair, while the other presses at the small of her back. Both pull her forward. The kiss is deep and sensual and liberating. It’s consuming and demanding and passionate. He’s hard against her stomach, and she’s wet against his thigh. Restrains finally get shrugged off.  
She sprawls on the bed, stretching her body. He climbs over her, caging her down. For a brief second their eyes lock, hazel and green, both clouded by lust. They know what they want.  
He enters her in a single trust, his lips muffling both their moans. Her nails dig into his shoulder blades as he sets the rhythm. Fast. Deep. Hard. She arches underneath him, moans his name, moves to meet him halfway. Sweat trickles down their bodies, glistering like a layer of jewels.  
Pants, moans, hisses and mews fill the silence, alongside the sound of skin meeting skin.  
She spins them without warning, making Newt growl in discontent. Chuckling, she gives him a chaste kiss before lowering her warmth and taking him in again. She sits up and pulls him up with her. Her tongue darts out and lick his neck. Her hips jerk in a single sharp movement almost sending Newt flat on his back with the sensation. It’s overwhelming, the feeling of her surrounding him, engulfing him, squeezing him. Her hands on his back keep him upright. Forehead against forehead, for a second they collect their breath. Her eyes gleam, glow with unseen radiance. Next to moan is her, as he grabs her bum and pulls her flat against him while moving his pelvis up. Nails run down his back. He bites her shoulder. Another moan, followed by her hip’s bulging.  
She rides him with her own pace – sensual and slow, with occasional sharp jerk, making him groan. Leaning back on his hands, Newt’s head lulls back, his eyes closing with the pleasure. The unbearable pleasure.  
“Newton.”  
His name on her lips makes him steal a look at her. Messy hair sticks to her body, hooded eyelids hide green irises, lips slightly red from him biting, parted from stealing her breath away. A goddess. His mistress. A spark in his eyes is the only giveaway sign for what follows.  
His hand fists in her hair, pulling it back, bearing her neck. The other moves underneath her bum. A small yelp follows as he hoists her up. He is on his knees, back straight, and she’s pressed against him, her hot centre yearning for the lost contact, only mere centimetres away from his shaft. Her long slender legs wrap around his middle, ankles locking. He lowers her down, sliding back into her beckoning warmth. She’s velvety soft and boiling hot. Tight. Slick. Needy.  
His hips move tentatively, testing the angle. The realisation that this would be his undoing is almost immediate. He enters her even deeper, rubs against her walls even firmer and drivers her insane. In turn, she squeezes him even harder, wanting to milk him dry. Panting, his face gets buried between her breasts. The movement of their hips never stops. Her heels are digging in his buttocks, her nails – into his biceps. He’s close, so close. And so is she, dissolving into his embrace in a puddle of pleasure.  
“Make me cum.”  
Her voice is groggy, thick with desire. Wrapping her hair even firmer against his hand, Newt makes her look up.  
“With pleasure.”  
A small smile accompanies his words. Something in her snaps. The kiss that follows is deep, passionate, sweet. It’s no longer a power play.  
Another, final change. She’s on her knees as well now. Hands get pressed against the wall. Bum is up in the air, while her bosom leans over the pillows. A single tempting look over her shoulder is all Newt needs. It takes a few more thrusts, each deeper than the previous one, to get them both to dissolve. He pulls away before falling to his side, in fear of crushing her smaller frame with his bulk. Breathless, with one hand thrown over his eyes while the other is sprawled over his stomach, he tries to come round. Whatever that was he just experienced, it feels like it teleported him into a different dimension, from which he finds it hard to return.  
The shuffling of sheets makes him lift his hand enough to peek at Penelope. She’s nested herself as close to him as possible, without actually touching him, sensing how out of his skin he’s currently feeling. Her eyes, brown with green rimming them, look up at him with unmasked smug satisfaction, making him laugh.  
“Come.”  
Her head comes to rest on his chest, over his heart. The long red locks get sprawled over both of them. Her small hand clasps his bigger one. One slender, smooth leg hooks around his not-so-smooth one. Newt manages to grab the end of the blanket and tugs it over their bodies. As Penelope snuggles even closer, Newt can feel his chest swelling with a sense of pride. The lascivious succubus is content, purring like a cat under his fingers.


End file.
